


Where wood and metal meet

by Rouxyn



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 01:01:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10674450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rouxyn/pseuds/Rouxyn
Summary: During their journey to the Misty Mountain, Thorin and company choose to walk through an unnamed forest in the hopes to shorten their travels. Instead, they run into a group of half-elves who do not allow travelers through their lands.





	Where wood and metal meet

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I am a fan of the Hobbit, I am not so avid a fan that this story is true to the imaginations of J.R.R Tolkien and the wonderful world he created. It is an interpretation of my own.

The chorus of crickets. The call of the birds. The rustle of the evening wind in the surrounding trees. These were the sounds composing the nighttime symphony while my company and I patrolled the border of our homeland. We were careful not to disturb the forest creatures in whatever twilight rituals they had to carry out. As such, we skimmed along the rough boughs of the trees; over the leaf-littered floor - moving as silently as the wings of a predatory bird.

Our clay-stained skins became a canvas: the hues of deep shadows and soft white starlight rapidly alternating as we sprinted through the approaching night. An inexperienced eye might glimpsed our party and mistaken us for the forest coming alive. Somehow, I imagined that few of my kind would scowl at such a claim. We were the people of this land, its sole guardians. It provided for all our necessities, and in return we protected it and its inhabitants. If that meant morphing into the land by altering our appearances, then we would gladly become one with our surroundings.

A signal passed through the group, and we simultaneously came to an abrupt stop in an old oak positioned atop a sharp slop. The sturdy knotted limbs held our combined weight without a creak of protest, allowing me to stalk farther out onto the branch as I gestured for my companions to listen. Breaking through the hushed blanket enfolding the woods came the sound of heavy treading; clumsy ploughing through the fauna; and sharp barks in the form of complaints. I peered though the leaves, down to the world below - amber eyes ablaze as my ears absorbed the foreign clamor. It was undoubtedly a group of rowdy men either direly lost or taking a risk by travelling through our land to shorten their journey.

This assumption was confirmed when thirteen figures bustled into the semi-clearing nestled at the bottom of the slope: all but one laden in armor furs, but each armed for a worthy foe. Clearly worn and searching for a place to rest, the group turned to a single person for an indication of what they were to do once they had caught their breaths. I studied the man who was obviously their leader, and found myself admiring the authority and strength etched in his features, but saw the distasteful stubbornness that lay in his dark eyes.

Those stern irises scanned the panting men before him, then he stated gruffly: "We will stop here for the night, and push on at dawn." His lack of fatigue - when his company showed clear symptoms of being riddled with it - displayed a powerful determination to reach wherever they were headed. Unfortunately for him, it did not deter the fact that they were unwelcome here.

My companions sensed what course of action I had decided upon, and joined me when I flung myself from the treetop, into the crisply scented night. The air rushed passed our bodies, causing our hair to writhe wildly around our heads as the broken starlight danced like a kaleidoscope along our limbs. As the travelers' possessions dropped to the ground, our feet hit the earthy incline and rode the layer of leaves, which parted like waves against our half-crouched legs. The journey was swift but didn't go unnoticed by our unwanted guests. By the time our soles came to rest on level ground and we had straightened, the travelers had drawn their swords and steadied their axes: each face assessing us with cool distrust.

My patrol was at ease, and we casually dissected the group before us with our senses.

" _They are of the house of Durin_ ," the Captain of our party, Cekar, murmured in our wispy tongue.

" _Except for their mate from the Shire_ ," Rivel observed as she took a leisured step closer to the Captain.

" _The kin of Durin must be travelling to their homeland_ ," Missern rasped from behind. " _But what of the unusual tag-along_?"

The patrol continued with their whispered conversation, analyzing the weary men until we knew all that we needed to. I did not contribute to this. I advanced with an intrigued smile, amused at the expressions of the apprehensive men who were eyeing what they now realized was a female.

"You are lost," I said, converting our wind-toned language to the words of mortals so that they could understand. "We would be only too happy to escort you back to the road that runs along our border."

"That road winds all the way around the mountainside," the largest of the men protested deeply, letting the butt of his ax thump onto the floor to emphasis his dislike at my suggestion.

"We know," I replied lightly, weaving between their tense figures with curiosity.

All eyes were trained on my body, which seemed the only one capable of locomotion. I could feel my companions' amused smiles growing, and reaching their peak when I observed the Shireling. He shifted uneasily under my gaze, glancing to his mates uncertainly. Silence stretched through the blue-black darkness until I finally stated, "Your hair... is ridiculously curly."

" _Oh, child_ ," Missern chuckled, coming to flank me. " _They will certainly this us insolent if you keep this up_."

"I was only trying to waft away some of the tension in the air," I answered innocently, flashing a sweet smile to the stunned traveler before me.

"You must please forgive Ravery's curiosity," Cekar requested, stepping forward to address the foreigners with mortal words.

“Well, I uh… I suppose greetings are in order,” the Shireling suggested awkwardly, offering his hand.

I cocked my head to the side, my eyes curious. “Why? You won’t be staying long and there are many of you. It seems a lot of effort, when we will not remember who you are once you have left.”

He seemed flustered and began to retract his hand.

“But I am not rude. I will greet you, Shireling.” I knelt on one knee and cupped his outstretched elbow with my fingers, making his hand rest on my forearm by default. I giggled a little when he retracted his head from mine, which had been slowly closing the space between our faces. My free hand gently pressed against his curls so that I could finally rest my forehead against his. “Clearly unaccustomed to our greetings,” I jested, climbing to my feet again. “As you heard, I am Ravery. Who are you, little one?”

“I… Uh, Bilbo,” he replied, not knowing what to do with his arm once I had let it go. He eventually settled for pressing him limbs deep into his sides.

I mouthed the name to myself, finding it new and strange. After a moment, I grinned. “Well, little Bilbo, it was a pleasure. Now please leave.”

“We are _not_ leaving,” their leader stated in a near-growl.

“ _Cekar_ ,” I called, half turning away from the glaring male that had spoken to me.

My Captain stepped forward, opening his mouth to convince the visitors to turn away, but the dark-haired dwarf just scoffed. “Is the little girl too afraid to address me herself?”

“Actually, kin of Durin, she was being polite in addressing any of you at all. Ravery is the daughter of our ruler. In this land, we only converse with outsiders through social equals. As the Captain of this patrol, _I_ should be the one to address you.”

“I am Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, the king under the mountain. That means your petty rules allow your ‘princess’ to talk to me. Now talk,” he spat in retort.

Cekar made to say something, but it was I that stopped him this time. I gestured for him to wait as I raised my chin and set blazing eyes on the dwarven leader. “For a king, your social graces are worse than most animals,” I said: my immediate impatience like a whip which lined my words. “I would appreciate if you showed respect. You are a guest here. Depending on your behavior, ‘guest’ can quickly turn to ‘threat’. Our rules are our law – dwarf, who is not yet king.”

He took a heavy step forward, shoulders bunched for conflict, when the oldest of his companions rested a steadying hand on Thorin’s chest. They looked long and hard at each other before it seemed Thorin had backed down. His white-haired adviser looked between Cekar and me.

“May I?” he asked, his gaze finally resting on mine. Cekar glanced to me, and after a moment I nodded. “My lady-”

“Ravery, please. Continue,” I urged politely.

“Ravery, our journey has been long, and is to be longer still. We are eager to take the most accommodating routes we can. Is there any means we be granted passage through your lands? Or, in the least, rest here for the night and leave in the morn, if you would further insist on it?”

I looked at the man carefully. He had seen many years; many triumphs; many losses. In their brief visual contact, I had seen he thought of Thorin as closer kin than their blood declared. There was a fatherly concern now in his eyes.

“You seem to be a good man... Your name?”

“Balin, miss.” He dipped his head.

“You are too gracious. Perhaps you should give some of your graces to you leader.” My remark caused varying degrees of discomfort amidst the assembly before me. “If you, Balin, can muster this group to be as courteous and considerate as yourself, then I may convince my father to let you through. Mind you, our camp is deep into our land. If Father says your company is not permitted, some of our warriors might think it easier to avoid further compromise and deal with you swiftly right there. Do you understand?”

The men glanced around: passing expressions and slight gestures in a flurry of silent debate. “I will say that my heart is a softer one than my people encourage. I will give you a good word, if you change my opinion of you during our joint travels. But… anger me, and it will not be my father’s warriors who deliver you to eternal sleep.”

Balin had paled a shade and seemed at a loss for words. I could tell he was seriously weighing the worth of travelling along the mountainside, or traveling with us through our peaceful forest. “Would you permit us to discuss our options briefly amongst ourselves?” he requested kindly.

“Briefly,” I granted and turned my back to join my comrades as the foreigners huddled together for louder-than-necessary deliberations.

“ _You are too generous, Ravey,_ ” Ridel chided, displeasure narrowing her eyes.

“ _These dwarves are serious about having Thorin take back his homeland. To do that, they will have to defeat Smaug. Should they succeed, that is one great threat we wouldn’t have to worry about anymore._ ” I glanced between my people, waiting for a counter. They seemed to consider it deeply, so I continued: “ _And if Father accepts to see them, I will ask the diplomatic scribe to draw a contract of alliance stating that when Thorin gains his power, we will never be exposed to its influence. Gold is poison. I will not have it taint our land, even if Thorin himself offered it in goodwill._ ”

“ _Compassionate, but wise,_ ” Missern whispered, a small glow of admiration in his eyes.

“ _But they’re dwarves,_ ” Ridel stated, almost disgusted.

“ _You know I would not do this normally, but our guests pose unique advantages to us. And I was serious about dealing with them if they got out of hand_.”

“ _Just say the word and I will gladly help you_ ,” Ridel replied, her eyes looking towards the short creatures with no kindness.

I looked to my Captain. “ _And you, Cekar? Any thoughts?_ ”

“ _Eyes and ears sharp, Ravey. If there’s one thing that I impart on you in this life, it’s to trust yourself but not those around you. Dwarves are greed-driven. Make sure that greed does not take advantages of the kindness you are showing them._ ” As my trainer and mentor in our people's ways, it was good to see my Captain stand by me.

I nodded. Put to ease that my patrol seemed to accept my unusual plan, I faced our guests again. It seemed that since they had started discussing their options, they had made no headway. I allowed the bickering to continue a moment more but eventually interrupted: “So, are you leaving for the road in the morning, or will we leave for my father before dawn?”

Still unsure, they exchanged a last round of quizzical expressions before Balin finally replied, “We will travel with you, should you have us.”

I smiled. “Lovely. Cekar and I will help you set up. _Missern, Ridel, kindly finish our run and return to the village. Inform our people that our party will be delayed. Return afterwards, if you wish._ ”

They half-bowed in respect – Ridel looking rather relieved – and both alighted the nearest branch to resume the patrol.

“So, you’re staying with us?” Bilbo asked, while his grumbling companions began their lethargic work on the nightly arrangements.

“My condition was to escort you to my father, if you would not leave. Do you expect me to be unpleasant company?” I teased.

“No, no. You both have no supplies. I was wondering…” He drifted off.

“Cekar and I will live off the land. It’s what my people do,” I explained, trying to put him at ease. “It just means that when we start our trek, we will need to gather food and water before the day gets ahead of us.”

 


End file.
